


Mickey Needs Advice

by thatonekeyboard



Category: Shameless (US), Supernatural
Genre: (It's just mentioned), (it makes sense in context i promise), Asshole Terry Milkovich, Bipolar Disorder, Explicit Language, Ian and Mickey as hunters, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mickey needs Dean's help, Oblivious Dean, canon destiel, like i know it says t but that isn't exactly accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2292431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonekeyboard/pseuds/thatonekeyboard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey needs advice and Dean seems like the perfect candidate.<br/>(You know, because of his oh-so-obvious "secret" relationship with Castiel.)<br/>See also: Mickey's too perceptive and Dean's gaydar, as per usual, is just about as far off as you could get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is part of a story that's, honestly, never going to be written.  
> Here's the gist of it: This is set in the metaphorical fifth/sixth season of Shameless in which, for whatever reason, Ian and Mickey have been hunters for a couple years (come up with your own reason, but, hell, maybe Jimmysteve's a vampire: wouldn't be the first time he's been lying to everyone), but everything up to the end of the fourth season still happened.  
> Long story short, Mandy gets nabbed by a couple monsters (djinn, specifically) that Ian and Mickey know jackshit about. Dean, Sam, and Cas - while dealing with the whole angel shitstorm - have been tracking for a while now.  
> The five of them meet up (probably a bar, let's be real) and haphazardly discover that they're all hunters. Team Free Will ends up inviting Ian and Mickey back to the bunker, where they've been strategizing together for the last two/three days and are about to head out the day after this is set.  
> Note: Canon!Destiel = Castiel and Dean's relationship is just like it is on the show - with Cas flitting in and out of the bunker and having an inappropriate amount of tension with Dean, etc. It's precisely because of this that Mickey just /assumes/ they're dating.

Okay, Mickey was looking for advice. If he’d known what was going to happen, hell, he probably wouldn’t have tried.

But the fact of the matter is that he did - he brought two beers out, sat next to the guy, and started talking.

Sam and Ian were out on an “actual food” run (which neither Mickey nor Dean would be any help on), Cas was… well, wherever he was, and that left Dean and Mickey home alone.

Bunker alone.

Whatever.

Anyway, Mickey needed advice and Dean seemed like the perfect candidate: him and Cas had to be together - he’d seen the way they looked at each other, how Cas always appeared right next to Dean… He was sure that this was as safe of a bet as he was ever going to find.

And, yeah, he knew they should be focusing on getting Mandy back, safe and sound, but it was a position Mickey had never been in, and he’d be damned if he didn’t take it.

Mickey set the beers on the table in front of Dean, who was still poured over maps; none of which seemed to have to do with their current job. Mickey wasn’t going to ask.

Dean pushed the papers aside and tipped the bottle back as Mickey settled next to him.

There was a moment when Mickey took a breath and gathered his courage (Ian was right, he really was a coward about this sort of shit).

“So how long you and Cas know each other?” He asked. That was good, that was safe.

Dean didn’t set the beer down, but rested it on his thigh. “Roundabout six years now?”

Mickey couldn’t say anything, so he just hummed in confirmation. What if he wasn’t gay (he was totally at least bi), what if he wasn’t with Cas (they weren’t fooling anyone), what if-- what if--what if?

How Ian was so fearless when it came to this shit, Mickey would never know.

Dean spoke again after a minute or so. “So how long have you and Ian known each other?”

Okay. That was good- Ian was good.

“We’re from the same neighborhood, but we started talking… Four, five years ago?” Mickey guessed.

Dean nodded.

They simultaneously took a drink.

He could do this. It was just advice.

Advice that would either ruin his life or secure it for… however much there was left of it.

“So… How did you know?” Mickey asked nonchalantly. Too nonchalantly? Fuck if he knew.

“Know what?” Dean asked.

“Don’t make me fuckin’ say it, man.”

Dean didn’t respond, just side-eyed him curiously.

Mickey ground his teeth, but he respected Dean too much to threaten him (which was a feat in and of itself) so he just heaved a sigh before continuing. “Like when did you know… that you - you and Cas, I mean - you know-”

Nice, Mickey.

Dean’s eyes widened as he finally caught on.

“Excuse me?” He asked indignantly.

Mickey burst. “Cut the crap! You can’t be serious about not being together; I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Dean raised his voice as well. “What the hell are you talking about? We’re best friends! How am I even supposed to respond to that?”

Mickey stopped cold. He’d been wrong. Dean wasn’t gay - not for Cas, not at all.

He was shell-shocked into silence. Silence that Dean took to mean that he could keep talking.

“What would you say if I asked you how long you’d been fucking Ian?” He asked agitatedly. His expression, however, was the textbook definition of “Check and mate, motherfucker.”

Mickey crossed his arms and didn’t say anything for a second as he deliberated. He could probably still pull off the “nosy twenty-one-year-old” act if he played his cards right.

“Yeah, see? Now, you get it: he’s your best friend, you two--”

“Four years,” Mickey mumbled.

“What?”

Mickey stood up. Had it been before - before everything, the strangers, the travelling, the monsters, hell even Terry - he would’ve regretted saying it. But it was too late to go back to being a chickenshit now.

“Four years.” He didn’t say anything else, just watched Dean collapse in on himself.

Finally, Dean spoke up. “Oh.”

Mickey wanted to run, run so far away only Ian would be able to find him. However, he also wanted to yell, yell and yell and yell until his throat gave out and he’d never be able to say such a dumbass thing again.

So he didn’t do anything. Just finished his beer and stood up.

Dean watched him silently until he was almost out of the room. “What did you mean, “the way I look at him”?”

Mickey turned around with a frown. He was in no mood to spell out the sheer amount of queer he’d seen since getting to the bunker. “The fuck do you think I meant, Einstein?” He spat, before finally exiting the goddamn room.

Ian’s dramatics were rubbing off on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be a couple little epilogue-esque installments of this (just a scene between Sam and Dean the day before this, and maybe one of Ian and Mickey being Ian and Mickey together - don't get your hopes up for Destiel).  
> At the end of everything, I'll reveal what Mickey was going to ask Dean advice on... Leave your guesses in the comments!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's just trying to be considerate and Sam knows something he doesn't.
> 
> (See also: Dean, your gaydar is so adorably off, you could probably watch the whole Shameless series and still argue that Mickey's straight.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set the afternoon before the last chapter. There's no Ian or Mickey (aside from being mentioned) - just Dean and Sam talking to each other.
> 
> I feel like I should mention that I don't have a beta, nor am I patient enough to edit as I write, so there are probably a lot of mistakes that will be fixed over time.

After the first night of the two boys’ stay at the bunker, Dean felt bad for them.

After the second night, he was just confused. He knew the bunker sort of… pulled a Hogwarts in that it just “magically” had whatever number of rooms were required. So why did it only magic up one room when there were two guys?

He knew he wasn’t the best person to be asking that. Him and Sam were different, though. They were brothers. And besides, they never had to sleep in the same bed (no matter how many motel front desk creeps thought they were going to). And if they didn’t think he wouldn’t notice there was only one bed in the instant guest room, they were mistaken.

So he approached Sam about it the afternoon after the second night. He was pretty sure Mickey (he’d gotten to learn their names pretty damn quick) was in the shower, while Ian was out for a run (how and why, Dean would never understand). Cas was god knows where, so Dean figured he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing.

He didn’t know why it was so important to him, that the guys were apparently sleeping in the same room, bed even, but he didn’t really want to think of it. He just figured they were too polite, South Side of Chicago or not, to mention anything (the Bunker was their temporary home, after all, and Dean couldn’t begin to fathom what he would’ve given fifteen years ago to have what they had).

Dean mentioned it to Sam while they were pouring over some old Latin books. They weren’t researching djinn - yeah, they were a bitch to kill, but significantly less so with four more-or-less experienced hunters on your side - they were reading up on angel lore. It seemed like they’d found everything there was to find, but a little review could never hurt.

“So, which of them do you think is sleeping on the couch?” He asked teasingly.

Sam looked up (Dean tried to not notice the way his hair fucking flounced. It was ridiculous) with a confused expression. “What are you talking about?”

“Mickey and Ian, man,” Dean urged. Wasn’t it obvious? “I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s two of them and only one extra bed.”

Sam opened and shut his mouth audibly, before opening it again. “Um… I think you should-”

Dean continued talking anyway. “There’s gotta be a switch or a button or something, right? That’ll, like - poof! - make a new room.”

Sam was looking at him with a familiar expression. The I-know-something-you-don’t-but-the-tone-of-my-voice-when-I-explain-it-to-you-will-be-a-hundred-times-worse-than-this-so-don’t-even-bother expression; somewhere between a smirk and a bitch face.

So Dean dropped it with a gruff “Forget I said anything.”

Admittedly, he wasn’t the most knowledgeable when it came to good, old, human friendships; considering the first three people that came to his mind were Charlie (who didn’t count because, despite her attraction to them, she was still a woman- and also in a different dimension), Garth (who didn’t count because he had a wife and was also a werewolf and therefore not even a human), and Cas (who didn’t count because, goddammit, he was literally an angel commando); but he’d been to enough high schools that he knew the social expectations of two guys.

And that list did not include sharing a bed. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter doesn't really cover it, but don't forget to comment with your guess as to what Mickey needed advice on!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian tries to understand why Mickey has suddenly become distant and Mickey's weirded out by all of Dean's analyzing.  
> (See also: Mickey's acting like he did when he was 19 and it's all Dean's fault.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a continuation from the first chapter (I don't even know why I bothered adding the second chapter, honestly) plus a gratuitous scene from the next morning, right before they go out to kick some serious djinn ass.

Later that night, Mickey turned in early. Dean hadn’t said anything about their conversation, but Mickey couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. He knew the guy was analyzing everything between him and Ian, wondering what he’d missed.

Ian followed shortly after, sitting on the side of the bed that Mickey wasn’t laying in.

“What’s up?” Ian asked - not to gently, not to brashly - as he started undressing.

Mickey turned away, remembering the feel of eyes on him whenever he’d touched Ian, no matter how innocuous.

He was sick of it.

A couple years ago he would’ve hopped on the closest cab away from the redhead - to reaffirm his masculinity or some shit like that. The time for that had long passed.

Didn’t mean he wanted to cuddle, though.

Mickey ignored the question, just said, “Don’t forget your pills.”

Ian sighed good-naturedly and rummaged through their bag until he found the little orange bottle wrapped in an old sock.

Mickey listened to the sound of pills shaking until it was muffled again by the sock. Soon after, the covers shifted as Ian crawled into the bed beside Mickey.

Moments later, he felt Ian’s warm chest against his back, but he pushed against it.

Ian sighed and Mickey felt the warm puff of air on the back of his neck. “Seriously, what’s up? You’ve been out of it all afternoon.”

“Fuck you is what’s up. I’m just thinking about tomorrow is all.” That was a lie; hell, he should’ve been thinking about Mandy more.

“Speaking of…” Ian traced a finger down Mickey’s side, brushing the patch of skin that gave his whole body goosebumps. Even after years (even though Ian hadn’t found it until they were a few fucks in) it still had the same effect.

“If you say what I think you’re going to say-”

He was stopped by the feeling of Ian’s forehead pressed into his hair. “If you do then you know what’s going to end up happening.”

Ian always did the same thing on the nights before big hunts. The whole “This might be our last night together” spiel and everything. At first, it was because he was (okay, they both were) honestly scared and wanted to forget, even if just for half an hour, but over time, it had just become a tradition.

Mickey wasn’t in the mood for tradition. It had nothing to do with Ian, he just needed time to think away from the redhead, he decided.

“Lemme finish,” He muttered. “if you say what I think you’re going to say, I’ll cut your hands off at the wrists.” He felt Ian’s hands twitch on his waist and the younger man backed off slightly.

“Will you at least tell me what you’re so hung up on?” Ian tried.

Mickey sat up; the usual warmth that always came with being around Ian was suffocating him.

“Jesus Christ, Ian. There isn’t always something wrong when I don’t wanna fuck you!” He spat viciously.

Ian wasn’t phased. Mickey’d said much worse - done much worse - and Ian still hadn’t given up on him. And, yeah, he was grateful for that, he just needed… He just…

Ian sat up next to him, less handsy now, with just their thighs touching. He didn’t say anything, just let Mickey come to it on his own terms.

Mickey hated when he did that. He was too understanding, too caring, too… Fuck.

“Dean knows,” Mickey finally grumbled.

Ian didn’t say anything, so Mickey continued. “He knows that we’re a… a thing because I’m a dumbass and I just figured that him an-and Cas were…” He trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt like he was twenty again, back in South Side with Ian, worrying about Frank mouthing off after finding them in the back room of the Kash and Grab.

Ian bumped his shoulder gently. “Shit, with the way you were acting, I thought you’d found another boyfriend.”

Boyfriend.

They were boyfriends.

And no matter how much Mickey acted like it, the last couple years had definitely actually happened.

Mickey trusted Ian. He trusted him with his life and he was pretty sure the ginger trusted him back.

He was a dumbass.

So, in response, he bumped his shoulder against Ian’s. “Don’t even start that load of shit. I’m too far in with you as it is.”

He stopped himself from continuing. Luckily, he didn’t have to, because Ian reclined back onto the bed, pulling Mickey with them, and returned to his earlier position: curved around Mickey’s back, fitting into him like they were two pieces of a puzzle.

Just before they dozed off, Ian murmured. “You know, Sam knows too. And I’m pretty sure Cas, but I can’t really tell with that guy.”

“How the fuck would Sam know?”

“Fuck should I know?” There was a pause. “He just started asking me all these questions ‘bout you earlier this afternoon.”

It reminded Mickey painfully of what he’d tried to do with Dean. So he tightened his grip on Ian’s hand (so they were holding hands. Sue him) and whispered, “I don’t care, just so long as his isn’t a queer hater or somethin’.”

Ian didn’t say anything, so Mickey figured he’d just dozed off. His meds knocked him out pretty quickly, after all. It hadn’t been fifteen minutes since Ian had joined him in the room in the first place. Fuck, he was going soft.

\---

The next morning, Mickey watched Sam as closely as he had Dean the day before. There was nothing. No weird stares, no accidentally homoerotic questions, nothing out of the ordinary. Fuck, maybe he’d known all along and Mickey wouldn’t have noticed if he was acting weird.

Everyone was a little tense.

They were planning on heading in around ten, since djinn were usually out during the day, rescue who they could (that was Ian and Mickey’s job) and set up traps for the monsters (that would be Winchesters and company).

Mickey had figured Cas was going to meet them there, but he showed up bright and early to discuss more strategy with Dean and Sam (out of Ian and Mickey’s range of hearing, so it probably wasn’t necessarily strategy pertaining to the djinn).

Mickey was a nervous ball of wound up energy and rage, with his mind finally able to settle onto freeing his sister.

At a couple minutes ‘til, Mickey decided he’d had one too many looks from Dean (only when Dean thought he wasn’t looking, of course). He stood up so suddenly, he almost disrupted his cup of coffee.

Dean was leaning against the wall, Sam was sitting next to Cas, and Cas was reading a newspaper (he’d swear it was the comics section, but… it couldn’t be) with surprising intensity. They all looked at him in confusion (except Cas. The fucking guy was a brick wall. It was like his stares just varied in intensity).

“I’m gonna go get our bag,” He announced to no one in particular. Ian, who he’d been sitting next to, looked up at him strangely. It wasn’t like they had that many possessions, after all.

So after a second of silence, Mickey took the plunge and leaned down to plant his hand on Ian’s shoulder and kiss him on the lips before striding off like that was something he did every morning.

Okay, leaving Ian to deal with the crap, he realized as he walked, was sort of a dick move.

Too late.

Just like the previous night, Ian joined him in their temporary bedroom after a few minutes.

Ian didn’t say anything, just smiled dopily at Mickey when he entered, then leaned down to grab the sock that held his medication and take his morning dose.

A minute or so passed before Mickey huffed, prompting Ian to laugh. “I told you,” The ginger smiled, walking over to Mickey before stopping right in front of him. “They all already know.”

Mickey didn’t know why he was so relieved. He told himself it was because he knew he’d need to trust them - literally - with his life later that day. Honestly, though, it was more than that. He needed to know that they didn’t… Care.

Ian coaxed him up, so they were standing less than a foot away from each other. He was still smiling like an idiot, but he didn’t do anything, just let Mickey realize what he was waiting for. It didn’t take long before their lips were pressed together, fingers grasping at flesh and running through hair, eyes closed, breathing heavy. Everything was perfect.

Everything was perfect and Ian was his boyfriend and they trusted each other and nobody cared and Mickey loved Ian.

Mickey loved Ian.

He just didn’t know how to say it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, that was the advice he was hoping for: to ask Dean how he knew he loved Cas (but, more importantly, how he told him).  
> Because fuck it all I just really like fluff.  
> Anyway, if you guessed correctly, congratulations, you're as sappy as I am!  
> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it (over the span of about half a month, before getting excited and posting it all in one night).


End file.
